


Not All Consequences Are Bad

by artandatrocity



Category: Glee
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Underage Drinking, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artandatrocity/pseuds/artandatrocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Kurt attend a party at Santana's. Kurt expresses his concerns about Blaine drinking, given Blaine's history with alcohol. Regardless of a promise to control himself, Blaine gets sloshed and Kurt ends up feeling obligated to take care of his boyfriend. He allows Blaine to spend the night on the Hummel-Hudson couch, knowing there will be consequences come morning. Regardless of the awkwardness that ensues, the consequences eventually prove to be far from terrible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I put watersports as a tag, but it's about as tame as you can get when it comes to that subject-- at least, that's what I think. This story is evolving a bit fluffier than I originally thought it would. Granted, it does earn its Explicit rating in some places.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me in to going to this thing,” Kurt grumbled, gripping the steering wheel of the Navigator so tightly that his knuckles visibly whitened in the faint glow cast off from the car’s clock.

Blaine chuckled in the passenger seat, smirking cheekily.

“C’mon, Kurt, you can’t tell me that a Santana party could turn out to be anything less than a kick-ass shindig?”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I’m afraid of,” came Kurt’s muttered reply.

The smile quickly disappeared from Blaine’s face and the playful tone dropped, replaced by a furrowed brow and genuine concern,

“Ok, what’s going on in that head of yours? You know I would never try forcing you to do anything.”

Kurt sighed before responding,

“I know. It’s just… I really don’t want a repeat of the infamous Rachel Berry Extravaganza.”

The grin returned to Blaine’s features.

“Babe, we’ve been over this. There aren’t enough mind altering substances in the world to induce another make-out session between me and Rachel. I would overdose before it ever reached that point.”

“And I believe that,” Kurt began in a somewhat unconvincing voice, “but really, I just don’t like seeing you drunk; you’re not you.”

Blaine’s eyes went immediately to his lap, an ashamed blush creeping in to his cheeks as silence grew between the boys. Finally he managed to stammer,

“I’m sorry. I never thought about what it must be like for you to watch me when I’m… that way. I promise I’ll try to stay in control tonight. The last thing I want to do is upset you.”

He lifted his head to look at Kurt, who turned to his boyfriend with the first genuine smile he sported all evening.

“Thank you, honey. That means a lot.”

Returning the affectionate gaze, Blaine happily said,

“Anything for you.”

By now they were turning on to Santana’s street, various cars sitting outside her house causing them to circle around the block before finding a place to park. After a battle between Kurt and a parallel parking spot, the two walked hand in hand up to the front door, hoping someone could hear the bell over music booming loudly enough to shake the house’s frame. A clearly well-on-his-way-to-intoxicated Puck flung open the door a few seconds later, exclaiming,

“Dudes! You’re, like, twenty minutes late. You got some serious time to make up for.”

Both boys snorted as they crossed the threshold, Kurt remarking on this statement with a single, sarcastic word,

“Clearly.”

*****

Two hours after the pair’s arrival found a scowling Kurt perched on an armchair in the corner of Santana’s living room, legs crossed at the knee and arms tightly folded. A red plastic cup filled with Diet Coke sat on the table next to him, and absolutely no alcohol coursed through his veins. The stark sobriety fueled his annoyance over the displays before him. Tina and Mercedes parked themselves on the couch, laughing hysterically about something that, more than likely, wasn’t actually funny. Finn and Rachel twined together in another stuffed chair, making out furiously. Santana and Brittany were “dancing” in the middle of the room, though really they only ground shamelessly against one another, more or less in time to the music. Dimly he realized that Artie proved MIA this evening, but honestly that just meant one less drunken spectacle. 

The sight inciting sparks of fury in Kurt took place on the rightmost side of the space. Mike and Blaine stood at one end of a plastic covered table across from Quinn and Puck, engaged in a rousing round of beer pong. In the brief hours since showing up, Blaine managed to ingest more liquor than ever before, not to mention a considerable amount of beer considering how badly he and Mike were losing. He swayed with every movement, stumbled through the short sentences he managed to string together, and generally looked like he would topple over at any given moment. Puck tossed the small white ball in to the one remaining cup on the opposing team’s side, leaving Mike and Blaine with four cups to split between them. As Quinn and her teammate slapped high fives and crowed in victorious celebration, Kurt rolled his eyes while the other two downed their beers in defeat.

Suddenly Santana drew away from Brittany and yelled,

“Alright, time for a new game!”

Even Finn and Rachel stopped sucking face long enough to stare interestedly.

“In the great tradition of New Directions parties,” Santana began, “I think it’s time for spin-the-bottle!”

Blaine nodded eagerly and moved with everyone else towards the center of the room. Upon seeing this Kurt’s eyes widened and he jumped off Santana’s couch.

“Actually, I think we have to be going now.”

The party hostess shot him an incredulous look,

“It’s barely 11pm yet, lady lips. Are you honestly telling me your curfew is before midnight on a Friday?”

Kurt glared at her, thankful that Blaine seemed utterly oblivious to their interaction.

“Honestly, I just want to take my boyfriend home instead of taking him to the hospital because of alcohol poisoning, thank you very much.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, Kurt moved to Blaine’s seated form and grabbed his elbow, pulling him up and beginning to drag his drunken form towards the door. The shorter teen stumbled along, and once outside Kurt wrapped an arm around him in an effort to stabilize Blaine long enough to make it to the car. They said nothing during the short journey, the only noises being a mixture of steady and fumbling footsteps slapping against concrete. Kurt was fuming, but aware that chastising or yelling would do absolutely no good right now. The best he could do was get Blaine back to the Hummel-Hudson house and tucked in on the couch. Tomorrow he could deal with his dad’s inevitable awkward questions and a lengthy, necessary conversation with his boyfriend once the hangover subsided.

Not until Kurt half-lifted Blaine into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt did the inebriated boy seem to register his change in location. When Kurt hopped behind the wheel, Blaine looked over with glazed eyes and slurred,

“Wherrre we... why leave?”

Willing himself to speak in an even tone, Kurt said,

“I’m taking you to my house. You need to sleep.”

“Mmmmm,” Blaine all but moaned, “sleep is good.”

Kurt couldn’t decide whether to laugh at this ridiculousness or cry in disappointment. Choosing to do neither, he remained silent and stone-faced for the 20 minute drive back home. After five minutes of ringing silence, he finally put on some music, unable to bear the sound of Blaine’s uneven breathing and unintelligible mumbles. Once they finally arrived, Kurt wrapped his arms once more around his nearly passed out partner, fumbling with they key to the door before finally leading them inside. Quietly as possible he helped Blaine to the couch, dropping him on top of the cushions.

“Wait here,” Kurt whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

He hurried downstairs to his room, praying that Blaine would still be conscious when he returned. After grabbing two pairs of pajamas and ripping a spare pillow and blanket from his bed, he ran softly back up the steps, grateful to see Blaine upright with open eyes. Tossing the bedding on the couch, he took the younger boy’s hand and guided him to the bathroom down the hall, furthest from the bedroom where Burt and Carole lay, hopefully asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Closing the door softly behind them, Kurt set his spare pajamas on top of the closed toilet lid while Blaine swayed slightly, eyes closed. His boyfriend’s unsteady posture indicated that Kurt made the right choice in deciding to help him change clothes. He felt too afraid of leaving Blaine alone to trip over his pants or pass out and fall over; hitting god knows what fixtures on the way down. As much as he resented playing babysitter like this, it surely beat finding a bleeding, unconscious teenager on his bathroom floor.

Sighing in resignation, Kurt reached towards Blaine’s neck, nimble fingers swiftly unknotting the sea foam green bowtie before slipping his fingers underneath all three shirt layers at once, tugging upward. Fortunately the intoxicated boy seemed to register where this was going and lifted his arms, allowing the clothing to slip over his head. Several wisps of hair escaped their gel helmet in the process, adding to his already disheveled appearance. Under normal circumstances Kurt would admire the naked chest before him, but right now all he wanted was to get this whole process over with. Blaine began to lower his arms before Kurt stopped him,

“No, baby. Keep them up.”

Blaine whined, and Kurt swiftly snatched the pajama top, jamming it a little roughly down the bare figure, knowing the next step would be even more difficult. Hoping to get everything done as quickly as possible, Kurt made quick work of unbuckling Blaine’s belt, kneeling to slide the jeans down to his ankles. Again the shorter teen staggered dangerously, inciting Kurt to use an arm to steady him and the other to carefully lift one foot at a time in order to slip each leg free of the fabric. It hit him how erotic this position would usually be, yet right now he felt far from aroused. Still on his knees Kurt nabbed the flannel bottoms and managed to get them pulled up Blaine’s legs with surprising speed and lack of protest.

For the first time since entering the small room, Blaine’s eyes opened, staring unfocusedly at Kurt. He continued to smile lazily.

“Thankss.”

Kurt tried and failed to smile back, the expression turning into some sort of twisted grimace. He felt thankful now that Blaine probably couldn’t see straight.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get you to bed.”

Shaking his head adamantly and turning slightly Blaine said,

“Mmm, no. Gotta pee.”

Kurt watched for a split second while Blaine fumbled with the flannel pants before grabbing his hands.

“Stop. I’m going to help you.”

At that Blaine seemed genuinely confused.

“Whaat?”

“Babe,” Kurt began, “you can barely stand and I bet you can’t see too well. No way am I letting you ruin my bathmats and oak toilet seat.”

Kurt knew that Blaine likely couldn’t comprehend most, or any, of these words, but at least he stopped moving. For the umpteenth time that night, Kurt sighed, lifting the seat and maneuvering himself behind Blaine. He once hoped that assisting each other in the bathroom would be something they could avoid until reaching old age, because this situation sat pretty high up on his list of things he’d rather not be doing. However, by this point, he accepted that neither of them was getting out of this situation without enduring some level of embarrassment. Bitterly, Kurt thought Blaine might get the luxury of not remembering it in the morning.

Kurt wrapped his left arm around Blaine’s waist in an effort to stabilize the swaying boy, while his right hand tugged the pajama pants down to mid-thigh. Sucking in a deep breath, Kurt slipped his fingers through the slit of Blaine’s black boxer briefs. While Kurt pulled his boyfriend’s dick out of the cotton fabric, Blaine remained seemingly nonplussed. The warm, heavy flesh felt familiar in Kurt’s palm, though the circumstances were entirely foreign; the action not one of passion, but rather of unsettling necessity. 

Gathering his thoughts just long enough to act, Kurt aimed the member in his hand at the pristinely clean white bowl, nervously whispering in Blaine’s ear,

“Ok, baby. Let go.”

The only warnings Kurt received came in the forms of Blaine’s relieved groan and a slight twitch beneath his own lightly clenched fingers. Though he desperately wanted to close his eyes, the caretaking teen knew that would completely defeat the purpose of his efforts. With blue eyes focused on his hand, wrapped solidly around Blaine’s dick, the faintly yellow stream began to arch downward. When the first splash reverberated around the bathroom walls, Kurt shivered, mildly dismayed upon realizing that this reaction was not due to any unpleasant feelings.

Kurt marveled at feeling hot liquid coursing underneath Blaine’s skin, combined with hearing the satisfied noises escaping Blaine’s somewhat lax mouth and the sheer intimacy of being present for what he always considered to be a private activity. All annoyance forgotten, Kurt registered the involuntary movements in his own briefs. For a moment he panicked; pressed this close to Blaine, he knew that his stirring cock would easily be felt by his partner. Instead of being bitter that Blaine would likely suffer memory loss come morning, Kurt now felt hopeful about this potential outcome. Sternly he attempted to remind himself that Blaine was incapacitated, their current position an act of necessity and that nothing, nothing, about this situation should be remotely erotic.

Apparently, his groin did not agree with his brain.

When the splattering noises became bursts rather than a steady sound, Blaine let his head fall backwards on to Kurt’s shoulder, knees loose but with feet now planted more solidly on the floor. It took an absurd amount of effort for Kurt not to pant into the ear resting too close to his mouth or rub against the firm ass pressing into him. Though not quite fully hard, his arousal remained uncomfortably evident. By some miracle Kurt managed to pull himself together, briefly shaking the last droplets of urine from Blaine’s dick before tucking it back in to his tight underwear and returning the pajama pants to their original place stretched across those slender hips. Kurt moved forward to replace both seat and lid to their resting position, gently guiding Blaine to sit atop them. After quickly washing his hands, Kurt lightly grabbed his boyfriend by the shoulders, lifting up gently and slowly leading him back to the living room.

Upon reaching the couch Blaine immediately collapsed upon the plush cushions, closing his eyes and burrowing his head into the pillow. Kurt smiled at this adorable motion before pulling the blanket up over the nearly asleep boy and tucking the sides in around his groggy form. Afterward he moved to the kitchen, filling a glass with filtered water that he then set on the coffee table less than two feet away from where Blaine lay. Assured that he did everything possible for the slumbering teen, Kurt returned to the bathroom, brushed his teeth (deciding to skip the moisturizing routine this evening) and somewhat sluggishly trudged downstairs. Fortunately his erection died down as he took care of seeing Blaine safely to bed, and exhaustion now overwhelmed him to the point where sleep was his only priority. He stripped down and donned his own sleepwear before crashing into the mattress with a satisfied grunt. Just under the sleepy haze swam a muddle of emotions, ranging from moderately despaired confusion to intense satisfaction, but blissful darkness overtook him before he truly acknowledged the quagmire of thoughts. In a few hours the sun would rise and a host of questions —his own, his father’s and Blaine’s— would require answering. For now, Kurt allowed himself to slip in to unconsciousness, vaguely aware that he needed this rest before the inescapable battle waiting for him with the coming of dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt awoke to a mind flooded with memories of the previous evening. He groaned and rolled over to look at the alarm clock. It was just past 7:30am, so he can’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep, but at least he would likely be awake before Blaine. Unfortunately, the odds were very good that Burt was already awake. As he fell asleep not too long before now, Kurt knew the upcoming morning would involve multiple uncomfortable conversations, but that knowledge did not mean he felt prepared for them. When it came to lying to his family, he always proved terrible at it, so he rarely even tried. Especially this time around, when his emotions were already so messed up from everything that happened with Blaine, lying would prove all the more difficult. However, the alternative was admitting to his dad that Blaine was drunk. Of course, that admission would lead to questions about Kurt’s own actions and the company he kept.

Rubbing his eyes, Kurt recognized there would be no winning this particular battle, and he might as well leave the safety of bed and get these encounters over with. Reluctantly he lifted the sheets, briefly pausing before the mirror on his way upstairs to make sure his hair wasn’t entirely out of control. He padded softly past the couch, grateful to find Blaine snoring softly, but dread pooling in his stomach as he approached the kitchen. Confirming his fears, Kurt saw Burt seated at the dining room table adjoining the kitchen, newspaper in hand and mug of coffee placed beside him. Burt looked up at the sound of footsteps, his face expressing nothing but mildly terrifying calm, and his son stopped in his tracks the instant their eyes locked.

“So, you planning on telling me what’s going on,” Burt said in a tone that was less of a question and more of a demand.

For the second time in less than five minutes, Kurt’s fists pressed against his eyelids as he asked,

“Yes. Can I please fix my coffee first?”

Burt studied his son for a moment before replying,

“Yeah, sure. But then you’re going to sit down and explain.”

Grateful for some time to stall, Kurt took a few minutes adding cream and sugar to the black liquid. Normally he didn’t like drip coffee, but this morning simply would not happen without some amount of caffeine in his system. As he moved at a tortoise-like pace, Burt continued to read the paper. The only sounds in the room were an occasional twitch of newsprint or quiet shutting of a cupboard door. Once the milk was replaced in the fridge and the sugar set back in its usual spot, Kurt found himself with no choice but to sit down next to his dad. Seated with his steaming cup cradled in his hands, Kurt gathered the nerve to look at Burt, who appeared to be finishing an article before neatly folding the newspaper on the table and turning to the teenager.

“Alright. Start talking.”

Kurt drew a deep breath before beginning,

“Ok, you know we were at Santana’s last night.”

Burt nodded and Kurt continued,

“Well, we lost track of time, and when we finally left it was really late.”

His dad looked utterly nonplussed so Kurt rushed to proceed with his lie,

“I didn’t want to risk taking Blaine home and accidentally waking up his parents. I mean, dad, you know what they’re like…”

At this Burt scowled. He met the Andersons a couple of times, and while he never outright expressed his dislike of Blaine’s folks, he also didn’t take much care to mask the disapproval that crossed his face at their mention. Part of the reason he welcomed Blaine with such open arms was due to his recognition of the lack of parental support in that household. 

Kurt felt a pang of guilt for lying like this. The reality was that Blaine’s parents weren’t even home this weekend, so they wouldn’t notice their son’s absence; although, in many ways, this proved his point even more. Unfortunately, it meant that Kurt’s only real motivation for the risky move of bringing his boyfriend home without warning was the fact that he didn’t trust the boy to make it through the night alone. That was a fact he desperately hoped to hide from his dad.

After a few heavy seconds, Burt said,

“Ok, yeah, I can understand that. Still, I don’t like that you brought him here without warning me. Did you at least contact his parents?”

“Yes,” Kurt fibbed, possibly a little too quickly, “Blaine texted his mom before we left, because she turns her phone off at night, so she’ll see it when she wakes up.”

Kurt paused before deciding to add,

“You know they probably wouldn’t notice he was gone, anyway.”

Burt nodded tersely, a troubled expression still haunting his face. Kurt felt terrible about spinning this tale, partly because it was so easy, because the little details were entirely believable. Guiltily, he felt a small amount of relief, because his dad seemed to buy into it.

“I believe you, kiddo,” Burt began, causing still more guilt to surge through Kurt, “but I don’t want this to become a regular thing.”

“I understand, dad. I don’t plan on it.”

Picking up the abandoned newspaper and unfolding it, Burt nodded once at his son.

“You should wake him up and get him home. I’d like to avoid a phone call from either of his parents if they find out where he’s been.”

“They both left for work early this morning—I doubt they even noticed,” Kurt added as one last lie, “but I’ll go get him now.”

Relieved that Burt at least appeared to believe his story, Kurt drained the remainder of his coffee, placing his empty mug in the sink before moving to the living room. Blaine continued to snooze on the couch and Kurt hated to wake him, both because his boyfriend looked so peaceful and because he couldn’t muster much excitement about the inevitable conversation he would soon need to engage in with the hungover boy. Kurt knelt on the carpet near Blaine’s shoulder, softly shaking his frame and whispering his name. The curly haired head finally jolted sharply, hazel eyes snapping open blearily.

“Huh… wha… where… Kurt?” Blaine stammered.

Kurt smiled softly.

“Morning, honey. You’re on my couch. I’m going to take you home now.”

Blaine closed his eyes again, hand moving to clutch his forehead as he groaned quietly; clearly he felt the effects from last night’s antics.

“Your clothes are in the bathroom, and I can get you some water and Tylenol before we go. Do you want any food?”

At the mention of food, Blaine let out a pained noise,

“No food. The rest sounds good.”

Kurt stood up to move away from the couch as Blaine unsteadily extricated himself from the blanket to swing his feet to the floor. After a few deep breaths he straightened up and headed towards the bathroom. Once the door closed, Kurt picked up the pillow and blanket from the couch and rushed back to his room to throw on clothes. It was unlike him to pay so little attention to an outfit, but he wouldn’t even be getting out of the car, and Blaine was currently in no state to judge him. He grabbed two Tylenol capsules before heading back upstairs, rightly guessing that Blaine would be moving slower than him. Kurt waited patiently, grateful that no one else wandered in to the living room. Carole was sleeping in and, with any luck, Finn would probably be out for another few hours, since god knows when he ended up leaving the party, let alone how much more he drank beforehand. Thank goodness for small miracles, right?

Finally Blaine reemerged, walking to where Kurt sat waiting with the water and pills. Blaine swiftly downed both, grimacing slightly as he set the glass back on to the table.

“Can we just go?” he requested in a gruff voice.

“Sure,” Kurt answered, grabbing his boyfriend’s slightly clammy hand. Wallet and keys already nestled in his pockets, he gingerly led Blaine out to the driveway, carefully monitoring him as he struggled somewhat to hoist himself up in to the Navigator. Assured that Blaine was safely situated, Kurt climbed in to the driver’s seat. As soon as the car started, Blaine closed his eyes, clearly expressing a desire for silence. At a loss for anything to say anyway, Kurt gladly obliged. Only when they pulled into the Anderson’s driveway and Kurt cut the engine did Blaine’s eyelids flutter open, head turning to face the driver. Neither boy said anything for a moment before Kurt broke the tense atmosphere stifling the small space,

“Can you make it inside?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Blaine breathed.

“Ok,” Kurt unsteadily began, “but later today when you don’t feel like dying anymore, you need to call me, alright?”

“Ok,” was all Blaine said before unbuckling and shakily making his way to the front door. Kurt waited until he saw the door close before starting the car and making his way back home. He felt exhausted from lack of sleep and excess of thoughts, and he hoped for a few merciful hours of naptime before handling the conversation with Blaine looming before him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but it seemed like a good place to cut it off before continuing.

Once back home, Kurt managed to make it from the entryway to his bedroom without interruption. Though he heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen that clearly belonged to Burt and Carole, they did not call out to him. Kurt moved sluggishly down the stairs, his need for rest completely overcoming his entire being. He set the alarm for 4pm, assuming that Blaine would not call before then. After stripping to his underwear and crawling under the sheets, he uncharacteristically fell into a deep sleep the instant his head hit a pillow.

What seemed like only minutes later, the alarm abruptly pulled him from a pleasant dream. His hand flopped around on the surface of the nightstand, stopping only once he managed to smash the snooze button, effectively cutting off the offensive noise. It took all his willpower not to shut off his phone and burrow deeper in to the safe cocoon of blankets. Against his better judgment he hauled himself out of bed, slipped into his robe and set off for the bathroom, hoping a shower might help him feel somewhat better about life.

Finally clean and spirits slightly improved, Kurt put on some music and began getting dressed. Humming along and happily lost in choosing an outfit, he almost (“almost” being the key word) forgot about what he had to look forward to later. While putting the finishing touches on his ever-immaculate hairstyle his phone began buzzing, and his stomach immediately twisted unpleasantly. Knowing exactly what the caller ID would say, Kurt felt reluctant to answer, though he knew that putting this off would only compound the imminent awkwardness. He paused the music, took a deep breath, picked up the phone, pressed “Receive,” and spoke tentatively,

“Hi.”

“Hi,” came Blaine’s voice from the other end. An uncomfortable pause followed, each boy waiting for the other so start talking. Blaine finally began the conversation,

“Look, I know we need to talk about last night, but… well, I mean, I’d rather not do it over the phone.” Kurt heard a deep sigh before his boyfriend continued, “Can you come over? I know you’ve already driven out here once today, but my parents are still gone, so it’s as much privacy as we can get.”

Kurt had been afraid of this, but he wasn’t really surprised by the request. Blaine had an obnoxious habit of being responsible enough to conduct their serious discussions face-to-face, no matter how much blushing, stammering or crying was bound to be involved.

“Uh, sure. Yeah. I just need to ask my dad.”

“Ok,” Blaine said in a slightly brighter voice, “just text me when you’re on your way, or if you can’t for some reason.”

Both boys knew that the odds of Burt keeping Kurt home were slim to none, and for once Kurt wished his dad was a little stricter about letting him run off without much advance notice. Pretty much positive there was no way of getting out of this, Kurt said with a hint of defeat,

“I will. See you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Kurt moved to hang up but heard Blaine’s voice shouting through the receiver at the last minute,

“Wait, Kurt!”

He gingerly placed the phone back to his ear.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

He only realized later that he may have waited a beat too long before responding,

“I love you, too.”

After the call ended, Kurt put on a jacket, gathered his wallet and keys, and ascended the stairs in search of his dad. Burt sat on the couch, watching the news. Kurt moved in to his field of vision slowly, not wanting to startle him. When his dad still didn’t acknowledge him, he cleared his throat loudly. At the noise the older man turned to face his son, a small smile breaking across his face.

“Hey, kiddo. What’s up?”

Kurt mentally crossed his fingers, hoping he could get out of the house without needing to lie anymore.

“Blaine called and asked if I could go over to his place for awhile.”

Burt’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t look like he was about to say no. “Weren’t you just over there this morning?”

_Of course_ , Kurt thought, _why would I get out of this easily?_

“Yeah, but, I don’t know, he said he wanted to talk to me about something. I’m not exactly sure what, but it sounds like it’s important.” There, that was technically true.

After considering this for a moment, Burt consented,

“Huh, ok. Sure, kiddo, just be home by 10, or call me if you’ll be any later.”

Kurt exhaled a small sigh of relief, not wanting to betray his hurry to leave the house. He opened his mouth to offer parting words, but Burt cut him off,

“Are Blaine’s parents ok with this?”

_Damn_ , Kurt’s mind swam frantically to find one last not-quite-lie of an excuse. After a second he decided on,

“Dad, you know that half the time I’m there they don’t even notice, and the other half they just ignore me.” As soon as the words left his mouth he deemed this a satisfactory answer. Even though it really was the truth, a small part of him felt bad for bad-mouthing the elder Andersons twice in one day. Kurt wholly resented the way they treated Blaine most of the time, but still, it felt wrong to blatantly bash your boyfriend’s parents with such frequency. Wasn’t that supposed to wait until they were your legal in-laws?

The scowl from earlier that morning returned to Burt’s features as he nodded tersely.

“Point taken. I don’t like it, but I understand. Go on, get moving and find out what’s up with Blaine.”

Managing a smile, Kurt thanked his dad and flew out the door. On the front steps he shot off a quick text announcing his departure before climbing in to the car. As the engine roared to life he took a brief moment to compose himself. All he knew for sure is that he would be facing an exceptionally guilty-feeling Blaine, but beyond that, he honestly couldn’t begin to predict what awaited him at the Anderson household.


End file.
